


cheesed to meet you

by redandgold



Category: Men's Football RPF
Genre: Crack, Gen, do not take srs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-05
Updated: 2017-08-05
Packaged: 2018-12-11 15:22:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11717112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redandgold/pseuds/redandgold
Summary: 5 times Philipp Lahm gets sent pizzas + 1 time he sends one back





	cheesed to meet you

**Author's Note:**

  * For [raumdeuter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/raumdeuter/gifts).



> "100% crack pls dont read if ur here for srs characterisation and well-written angst" - author, who wrote this based off [textsfrombayern](textsfrombayern.tumblr.com), [this iconique letter](https://sports.yahoo.com/blogs/dirty-tackle/michael-ballack-says-farewell-enemies-000754392--sow.html), and stalking people's tumblr tags
> 
> for irn bc this is the only way i know how to make friends :///////
> 
> IVE NEVER WRITTEN TEH GERMANS BEFORE I APOLOGISE FOR BAD CHARACTERISATION LIKE PLS TELL ME IF ITS BAD!!! IM SO SORRY!!! (also i pretend it falls under the forgiving umbrella of crack)

**i.**

Philipp calls Thomas first, because he always calls Thomas first.

"I didn't do it," Thomas says immediately, with the kind of well-practiced plausibility that only comes from doing the things he says he hasn't done. 

"What didn't you do?" Philipp asks, momentarily distracted by the prospect of having to mop up yet another of the perpetual messes Thomas finds himself in, only to remember that he is, in fact, retired, and that the responsibility has thankfully fallen to Manu.

(Manu who still calls him at two in the morning because he doesn't understand the concept of 'sleeping', or indeed 'there is the word 'goal' in 'goalkeeper' for a reason'.) 

"Uh. There is no camel in the dressing room."

Upon reflection, Philipp that Manu's early hours are probably more to do with the arduous task that is removing Thomas's foot from his unusually large mouth. He sighs, shakes his head, and sternly reminds himself that there is a mystery to solve.

"Did you send me a pizza?" 

"Wow. What kind of pizza is it?" 

"That is not the point." 

"That is always the point with pizza," Thomas says, very seriously. A fleeting mental image of Thomas sitting in perfect zen at a pizza altar whispering  _ foooor-maaaah-giiiii _ crosses Philipp's mind and is immediately banished into the realm of Things He Must Never See Again. Ever. The usual small-print Unless It Can Help Bayern In Some Way, he suspects, will never apply, unless Ferguson returns and pizza throwing becomes an obligation.

He sighs. "Hawaiian." 

He can hear Thomas snorting on the other end of the line with the kind of disdain he usually reserves for small, lowly-ranked national teams. " _ Hawaiian _ ? That's not pizza. That's pineapple on bread." 

"So it really wasn't you? All right. I'll throw it away, then." 

"Are you  _ kidding _ ? You're going to throw away free food?"

"You said it was pineapple on bread."

"Yeah, but it's the best kind of pineapple on bread. Do you know any other kind of pineapple on bread? Hang on, I'll be there in twenty minutes." 

Philipp puts down the phone, stares into the distance the way any kind of peripheral association with Thomas necessitates, and then wanders off in search of a conveniently located pillow to scream into. "Thomas is coming," he says to Claudia in the living room. "He wants to eat pineapple on bread. But I think we shouldn't distract him with the horse this time because he'll try to make it friends with the camel and then Manu will cry about how the responsibility is too much for him." 

"I'm going to pretend I didn't understand a single word you just said," says Claudia, with entirely good reason.

  
  


 

**ii.**

"Interesting," says Thomas, peering at the pepperoni pizza on Philipp's doorstep. There are a few things Philipp does not like about this situation. The first is that unwanted pizza is still being left in front of his house. The second is that Philipp loves pizza, but he can't eat these ones, because what if they're poisoned? ("Who would want to poison you?" Claudia asks. "Everyone," Philipp replies darkly.) The third is that Thomas has decided to christen this 'The Pizza Mystery' and is staying at his house in order to solve it. The fourth is that Thomas has decided that he needs to wear the English detective's funny hat in order to 'look the part', and insists on flipping up his shirt collar like the actor with the ridiculous name.

(Which Philipp may or may not have learnt how to pronounce on account that you never knew what kind of questions might come up in interviews, and it was always good to be prepared. One day he might be dragged into a televised competition where he had to pronounce difficult English names and  _ who would be laughing then. _ )

"Fipsssssssss."

If Thomas ever needs a job after retirement, Philipp thinks, he already has one; just him saying other people's names could strike fear into hearts the way no horror movie had ever truly figured out.

"What?" 

"I need to interview you."

"Why?"

"You're the victim, yes?" 

"I've been getting free pizza. I'm not sure that's a crime." 

"Shhh, Count Eutin. Now. Can you think of anyone who would want to do this to you?" 

Philipp shrugs. "Not really. I don't have that many enemies - " 

"Aha!" Thomas jabs a finger at him with an excitement that is comparable to Archimedes at bath time. "That is where you are wrong, mein Kapitän! You have very many of those, don't lie to me." 

"And this helps the investigation how?" 

Thomas's face falls slightly. "No matter," he decides, grabbing Philipp's hand and dragging him out of the house, the other hand clutching at the pizza box. Claudia makes little to no attempt to save him, the great betrayer. "What we need is a sniffer dog who will lead us to the culprit immediately."

It's actually not a bad suggestion, and Philipp is interested despite himself. "You have a sniffer dog?" 

Thomas bobs his head around. "In a manner of speaking." 

Philipp is very sure that, when he said he had 'ambitions', watching Thomas Müller valiantly attempt to feed a pepperoni pizza to a camel was not one of them.

  
  


**iii.**

This is starting to get ridiculous. Philipp frowns at the margherita as if it was a sentient object that would quail under the might of his formidable eyebrows. "I don't understand." 

"Maybe we don't need to understand," Thomas supplies, helpful as always. "Maybe we should just accept the appearance of free pizza at your door forever. Also can I move in?" 

Philipp imagines his house filled with camels. "Absolutely not." 

Thomas pouts.

In a valiant attempt to re-commandeer the conversation, and avoid any suggestion of Thomas moving in ever again, Philipp returns to the subject at hand. "Why pizzas? It's not some kind of a - " he pales. "- secret admirer, is it?" 

"Fips, I'm in love with you," says Thomas, fluttering his eyelashes. It takes all of Philipp's self restraint, plus his considerable knowledge of German law regarding murder, not to do anything that he might regret. 

"Never mention that again, on pain of your life." 

"But everyone else talks about i - " Thomas realises that no one has ever talked about it, at least no one he ever heard from again, and pales.

"The pizza, Thomas, the pizza." 

"OH. Yes. The pizza. You know what we need? All we need to do is place a watch on your doorstep to find out who's delivering it, and then we can catch them and make them tell us everything." 

Philipp tells himself that he is constantly aware of how smart Thomas actually is, but the fact that he is still pleasantly surprised is testament to how much noodling goes on in between moments of brightness.

"The two of us alone can't handle round-the-clock watching, though."

"Fret not!" Thomas is pulling out his phone. "I have a plan!"

Given the usual consequences of Thomas's plans (Manu maintains that that was the real reason why Pep left) Philipp wanders off in search of his scream pillow.

"Thomas, the reason I called you first was because I thought you'd done it, not because I wanted help." 

"Are you saying you don't want my help?" 

"I don't want the whole of the Bayern team standing my living room is what I don't want." 

"But it's free manpower!" 

"Take it as a compliment. You are still their captain, after all." 

"You br-  _ Xabi _ 's here?" 

"Retirement is boring. Also Thomas thought we could work through our unresolved romantic tension on the side." 

" _ Thomas _ \- "

"Aren't you just glad I didn't bring the camel?"

  
  


 

**iv.**

As it turns out, there is a reason why they are footballers and not security guards. Javi falls asleep at the binoculars and, miraculously, there is a pizza on the doorstep when a bleary-eyed Philipp walks out the next day. "I told you we should have bought video cameras instead," says Xabi, and everyone remembers why they had to lie when insisting 'I'll miss everything about him' last season.

Unsurprisingly, Thomas is undeterred. "I will find this person," he vows, "even if I have to call every pizza company in Munich myself." And he jams his special detective hat on harder just to punctuate his declaration.

"Okay," says Philipp, and the rest of them troop off to the living room to play Fifa while Thomas sits in the study and cries about his life choices.

"I FOUND THEM," Thomas screeches in a manner that causes more than one person to think that dinosaurs had been brought back to life. He rushes out, clutching a piece of paper. "They're a tiny pizzeria just outside of Munich, which is why it took so long. God, do you have any idea how popular Italian food is here? I called so many places! Also Fips I don't think you should look at your phone bill this month." 

Philipp puts his face in his hands and says a silent prayer thanking both his former salary and the two holes in the 1860 fence.

"So?" Manu wheedles. "Who is it?" 

" _ Osteria Italiana Zur Post _ ," Thomas reads out, and then beams expectantly.

It's only after two minutes of suspense (although Philipp isn't sure it qualifies as suspense if the person meant to be keeping them in it has forgotten) that Xabi offers a vaguely confused prompt. "And...?" 

"...Oh. OH. They didn't have a name, but they said that the guy kept mumbling 'sweet, sweet revenge' and 'this will teach that tiny elf creature' when he thought the phone was off." 

Philipp bristles like his eyebrows. "I am not a tiny elf creature." 

"So, someone who hates Philipp," Xabi says thoughtfully. "That narrows the list down." 

Only the very real fear of Thomas taking a photo and sending it to Pepe to send to Gerrard to send to and demand the truth from Xabi stops Philipp from reaching over and hitting him.

The rest of the team take it as an invitation to play a game of List As Many People Whose Toes Philipp Stepped On As You Can. It's not his favourite of games because it reminds him that regret is an emotion that exists, and he has led a very peaceful life without it.

"Kalle!"

"The whole Bayern board!" 

"Klinsmann!" 

"All the coaches he's ever played for!"

"Micha!"

"The whole national team!" 

Manu stammers at the look Philipp gives him. "I was just trying to fit with the theme. I love you really. Please don't kill me." 

"That Hertha player he fought once who was one head taller than him!" Juan shouts suddenly from the back of the room, and then melts into a puddle when everyone turns around to look at him while the '...' punctuation mark hangs conspicuously in the air.

"Your German's getting better," Jerome says graciously. 

Xabi, meanwhile, is stroking his unfortunately well-groomed ginger beard, which means either he's had a clever thought or he just wants everyone to notice how well-groomed it is. 

"It's a very well-groomed beard," Javi begins dutifully, but Xabi hushes him and goes to the computer, where he enters a search phrase and pulls up an article. Everyone begins to crowd around it and starts to snigger. By virtue of being somewhat -  _ somewhat  _ \- smaller, Philipp has to wait impatiently for them to finish before he can look.

_ Hello, Philipp. I am Michael Ballack. I have saved you for last because you are a tiny elf creature and also because I don't like you.  _

_ Hopefully this will not be because I died of natural causes in my sleeping quarters, but because finally enacted my revenge. _

_ What will that be? Pizzas. After I decades away, I will return to my own home, say a brief hello to my own family and I will order no less than four pizzas that will be delivered to your house. "How have these pizzas arrived at my home when I did not order them? I remember betraying Michael Ballack and I finally feel less than satisfied with myself," you'll say.  _

"Are you feeling less than satisfied with yourself, Fips?" asks Thomas.

Philipp's mouth has dropped open so wide that he swears he can feel the floor with his bottom lip. "But this is a joke," he says faintly, gesturing to the article. "He wouldn't have. Read it and then. Thought it was actually a good idea, would he?" 

Xabi shrugs. "In a world where Michael Ballack is sending you pizzas to exact revenge, anything is possible. You might even be dreaming all of this. None of us might actually be here. My presence might purely be due to the hypothetical author's need for some mysterious Spanish goodness."

"I'm good and Spanish," Juan says sadly. 

Thomas waves a hand in the air, nearly succeeding in breaking half of the ceiling lamps that Philipp owns. "Xabi. Xabiiii. How did you even know this article existed? It's not like you sit at home googling us in your spare time to gather as much incriminating material for times of need, right?" 

The combination of Xabi's silence with his refusal to meet Thomas's eyes makes Philipp a) sick and b) wonder if gathering incriminating material against the Bundesliga might help them win the Pokal next year.

  
  


 

**v.**

In the end it's Manu who catches the delivery boy, jumping out at him from behind the bushes and overestimating how much power was actually required. "People are not balls," Philipp hears David chiding Manu as he and Thomas drag the unconscious delivery boy into the house while Claudia frets and keeps an eye out for the police. 

"Looks like this kid got one step further than the guy from that thing you said never to talk about," says Thomas, winking. Philipp breathes and reminds himself that if he fights him now he won't get to see Thomas tripping over his own shoelaces tomorrow, and schadenfreude is always more satisfying.

The boy's eyes go wide when he wakes up and sees that he's being stared down by some of the best players in the league. "Sorry I treated you like a ball," Manu says meekly.

"Did Michael Ballack send you?" Philipp demands, trying studiously to ignore the sounds of Thomas working his way through the pizza in the background. ("Thomas it's eight in the morning," says Juan.)

"Michael...Ballack?" 

"You know. Tall. Dark hair. Looks like he bit into a lemon once and never got over the taste."

"Cruelly cast aside by the ruthless Philipp in his quest for national preeminence," Xabi provides helpfully. Philipp doesn't even know where he learnt how to say preeminence. Or why, really.

"I know who Micha is," says the boy. Thomas whistles. Philipp doesn't know how he does that through a mouthful of pizza. Or why, really.

"Don't call him that. Fips will get all frowny."

"I am not frowny," Fips insists, frowning.

"I mean, I don't know him personally," the boy shrugs. "But there's this girl at work who's a huge fan of him and has this wild theory that he keeps ordering pizzas from us."

Everyone exchanges Meaningful Glances.

"I don't understand," says Philipp, sinking into the nearest chair. "What on earth made him think that sending pizzas to me would constitute revenge? How would free pizza piss me off?" 

"Your house has been overrun by Bayern players missing their training and harbouring an exotic animal in their dressing room to listen to Thomas get crumbs all over your carpet," Xabi points out. It is a good point.

"But still! It happened so many years ago! I can't believe he's still angry about it!" 

"If the same thing had happened to you, you'd have set about methodically destroying his life and timed his ultimate destruction to coincide with the thirtieth anniversary," Manu points out. It is also a good point.

"I need to do something about this! I don't want pizzas to keep coming to my door!" 

"You could just let him keep ordering and we could eat them ourselves," the boy says hopefully.

"That's unscrupulous," Thomas says. "Fips doesn't tolerate unscrupulousness, unless it's his own."

Philipp suddenly has a very bad headache. "All of you, get out," he says sternly. "Isn't there a camel in the dressing room that you need to deal with?" 

Xabi raises a hand. "I'm retired."

  
  


 

**i.**

Michael 'Crunk Dance Revolution' Ballack opens the door of his apartment to find an inconspicuous-looking box of pizza sitting on the doorstep. His first thought is to question how Philipp got his address. His second thought is that he should never talk to Alexi Lalas again.

There's a note on the box. Michael picks it up, not entirely wanting to.

_Hello, I am Philipp Lahm and you might remember me from when you hurt your ankle in 2010 and also when I won the world cup (as captain) in 2014. I am writing to you because you look like an angry Mr Potato Head and also I don't like you._ _I am glad that you never became my butler because I would have had to move home without telling you and it is difficult to move home while trying to keep it a secret from the butler. I suppose I also could have killed you, but then the police would not have been able to do that English thing where they proclaim 'the butler did it'._

_ Thank you for your pizzas. Thomas enjoyed them a lot. Unfortunately, I do not feel less than satisfied with myself. I won the champions league so it is a bit hard to feel less than satisfied with myself. I also won the world cup but I have mentioned that already. I am not sure who the last German captain to have won the world cup and champions league was but I think maybe that is not you. _

_I hope you enjoy this pizza. I am very sorry if there is not much left because_ ~~ _Thomas_  ~~   ~~ _the camel_~~ _I don't like you. Jogi says hi. P.S. My eyebrows are more impressive than your career._

Inside the box is a half-eaten slice of pizza and some bristly golden hairs. Michael puts it down and wonders whether some obscure Chinese team would still be keen on offering him a contract. 

**Author's Note:**

> \- the camel is shoutout to textsfrombayern  
> \- fergie got pizza thrown at him i mean i just wanted to make sure this was manc  
> \- Count Eutin is from German cluedo??  
> \- yes i inserted a meta reference in xabispeech obviously  
> \- crunk dance revolution is a reference to the orig letter  
> \- i stole frowny from sabs  
> \- of course fips didnt write that letter..............did he  
> \- thx sabs for the title!!! alt title: slice slice baby


End file.
